


Blue Blood, Royalty, and Fame

by BurningBehindMyEyes



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Colin is Damian's personal guard, Damian is the Demon's Head, He killed Ra's for the throne, Humour, I started writing this at midnight so tags will be updated as I go, Insanity, Jason is Damian's left, Jason never went back to Gotham, Mara is Damian's right hand, Maya is the captain of the guards, Multi, Royalty, Talia commands the League's armies, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-15 08:18:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14786829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningBehindMyEyes/pseuds/BurningBehindMyEyes
Summary: Damian was sixteen when he waged war against a decrepit old tyrant who had dared to lay a hand on someone he loved.He was eighteen when his arm moved forwards, following his blade and sinking deep into Grandfather's chest, eager to feast on the tainted blood the man so jealously guarded. It spilled down his throne, staining the carpet. The acidic green with far too much life to be anything but supernatural bled into Damian's sword, up his arms, down the roots of his hair, and through his eyes.The new Head of the Demon was nineteen as he faced down Gotham's bleak city lights, watching as the Bat signal flickered before going out. He felt the collective sigh of relief from the people, his guards attentive beside him. This was the last loose end from Grandfather's reign that he had yet to tie up.It was finally time to meet his father.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As stated in the tags, I have absolutely no plan whatsoever for this fic so tags will be updated as I go.

Green eyes that haunted him in his nightmares stared back at him from the mirror, accusing. For a moment, he could almost imagine his grandfather’s scornful voice, _What are you doing, you should be slaughtering them-_ , but he paid it no mind. Today he would meet his father. Idly, Damian dragged a brush through his long hair. It fell in waves like his mother’s. It used to be short, buzz cut for the least trouble whilst fighting. From the nape of his neck, an unnatural acidic green bloomed, falling to the centre of his back. They had tried to cut it, but much like the head it was attached to, it was stubborn, refused to break. Damian lifted his wrist, snatching the dark brown scrunchie and quickly tying his hair back in a low ponytail. He peered into the mirror intensely, shifting around the lump on one side of his head from his ponytail. He huffed in irritation, until _someone’s_ ass got in his way. Raising an eyebrow as sarcastically as humanly possible, he glanced up at the freckles of his best friend.

“Ready, Dames?” Colin grinned down at him, the gap in his front teeth distracting Damian from looking annoyed. “We have that meeting with the Justice League in about an hour.” Colin had been an accident, Damian knew. Jason had been let loose on Gotham, then found the kid. A small child tied to the medical cot in one of Scarecrow’s laboratories. Jason had immediately returned to the base with Colin, and putting the fact that Colin was his second biggest pain in the ass aside, Damian was glad Jason had brought Colin to him.  
“As I ever will be, I suppose.” Damian clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth, straightening up and watching as Colin hopped off the piece of furniture. “I admit… it is rather daunting, meeting one’s father for the first time. Especially considering who he is.” Damian glanced back at the mirror, hesitating, pursing his lips together. “And who I am.”

“Well,” Colin brought a gloved finger to his lip thoughtfully. All of Damian’s guards were wearing an all black bodysuit, gloves, with an overcoat that buttoned up, fell to their thighs, and had a hood where they would hide their faces. Damian would be the only one unmasked during the confrontation. After what Lazarus-tainted water had done to his appearance, there was really no point in trying to hide his face. “You could just, I dunno, not tell him?”

“He’d figure it out eventually. Ra’s didn’t call him Detective for nothing, after all.” Damian turned away from Colin, gently sliding a ring with the crest of the al Ghuls onto one of his fingers, flexing his hand to test the weight the jewel created.

“Dames, look at me.” Colin placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder, spinning him until he could see Colin’s determined eyes. “I know that you’re driving the League away from killing… but if he gives you a hard time, all morals go out the window. I speak for all of us when I say that.” Colin stared Damian down, only releasing him until he was sure that the Head understood. Damian huffed lightly, a small smile making its way onto his face.

“You are such a bother.” He teased, lightly, raising an eyebrow. Colin moaned drastically, clutching his heart and falling to the floor. Damian clicked his tongue at him and went to leave, but the leech grabbed onto his ankle and began to whine about being mistreated. Damian rolled his eyes as hard as he could and continued walking, dragging Colin along with him. He opened a door on the opposite side of his bedroom, exiting the lavish room of the hotel they had booked for their week in Gotham.

He entered the communal living room, eyes scanning over his team. Maya was tossing throwing knives and catching them, testing their balance and weight in her hands with the bodysuit on. Mara was adjusting the band around her waist, smiling with one corner quirked up more than the other. That alone told Damian she was very, very pleased with the modifications he had made to her waistbands. With her wide hips, any pants that were not hiked up and cinched around her waist tended to fall, so Damian had added a stretchy waistband and made the pants just slightly longer than her actual measurements. Jason, predictably, was brooding in the corner, although he did look up when Damian entered.  
“What did you do to Colin?” Mara was the first to break the stunned silence that followed as everyone took in their leader in all his glory, whilst his personal guard and esteemed colleague whined like a child, clutching at his ankle. Damian shrugged and continued walking forwards. He grabbed his own coat from where it had been hanging and shrugged it on, the padded shoulders making his back straighten unconsciously. The coat was a bright green, gold accents around the outer edge. The sleeves were large, nearly falling to his waist with his hands held straight out. The crest of the al Ghuls was embroidered all over the silly garment, gentle swirls of gold surrounding it, turning it into more of a design than a statement. Colin finally let go of his ankle, assessing Damian in his new coat with calculating eyes.

“He can’t wear that.” Colin announced, brows furrowing. “He looks too good. I’ll get distracted.” As she shuffled over to get her boots, Maya _accidentally_ dropped one of her knives near Colin’s throat, the sharpened tip landing a centimetre away from his neck.

“Oops.” She monotoned, stepping over Colin. Mara did not spare him that luxury and stepped on Colin’s stomach. As Colin bemoaned the abuse he suffered, Jason grabbed his arm and dragged him up, tired eyes landing on Damian. Damian nearly flinched, still unused to the raw pain in Jason’s gaze. He had begged Jason to stay, to not put himself through this, but his brother would not leave him in Gotham alone.

“I think you look great, demon spawn.” The smile was weak, but genuine, and considering the circumstances, that was all Damian could ask for. Damian grabbed his boots from the closet, slipping them on. He wriggled his toes in the worn leather in contentment, flexing his boot as the boots moved with his body. He stood, grabbing his sword sheath and attaching it to his belt, leaning gently on the katana’s pommel. This blade had won him wars, killed a tyrant, kept him alive, and fought alongside him for as long as he could remember. As strange as it was, it was comforting.

Damian unlocked the hotel door, opening it into the deserted hallway. He stepped out, his team following silently. They entered the elevator, staring intensely at the poor businessman who was travelling to the fourth floor of the hotel. The man was sweating nervously, eyeing the weapons they didn’t even try to hide. The man pulled at his collar, nearly jumping out of his skin and his face changing from an already light pallor to one of a ghostly nature as Damian moved his arm to grab the pommel of his katana and tighten his grip around it. When they reached the man’s desired floor, he nearly tripped over his own briefcase trying to get out of the elevator.

They had the grace to wait until the elevator doors closed before bursting into laughter.


	2. You know its bad when Jason breaks out his emergency granola bar stash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian meet his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S 2AM HELP

Well. This was it. The League Tower loomed ominously from behind the clouds, though Damian knew it’s true base of operations lay far beyond Earth’s sky. He glanced up, fingers clenching and unclenching within his robes, an uncharacteristic nervousness finding its way home in his stomach, dancing about. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, the urge to just turn tail and run, send one of his diplomatic minions in his place, but. The League wouldn’t entertain any but the Head of the Demon himself and running from his problems wouldn’t solve anything. Damian squared his shoulders and calmed his face. 

If this meeting was to be a success, he knew exactly how he had to win over his father. Sadistic playfulness. Spill some of his secrets to either Batman himself or someone Damian could be sure would go to Batman with the information. Garner sympathy, prove himself as a worthy successor to the Al Ghul legacy, and he may leave Gotham with the League on his side. It would take time, it may destroy any chances of an honest relationship with his father, but his people were worth it. The world was worth it. Damian needed to fix this, he needed to undo his Grandfather’s legacy, he needed-

“You’re thinking too hard.” Jason gently swatted at the back of Damian’s head. Damian turned slightly, taking in his companions. All volunteers, all loyal. “You may have the official title of Head,” Jason continued, running the hand on Damian’s head through his unruly hair, taming the acidic green strands that lay underneath the tie Maya had given him. “But I think we all know who actually runs this place.” Jason’s smile was crooked, yet Damian could see the bags under his eyes. “We have your back, little brother.”

Damian nodded, taking a breath. His team pulled the masks over their faces, their hoods obscuring their eyes. Damian faced forward, a hand on the pommel of his sword and strode forwards, the wind ruffling at their backs. He stepped inside the building, watching as one of their “boom tubes” opened, the bright lightshow blinding everyone but Jason, who knew well enough to look away. Slightly disoriented, Damian stepped forwards into the tube.

He had a list of his favourite transports. Horses? Any time, any place, any day. Camels? Amazing, such an intelligent animal. Motorcycles? If he could speed. Cars were boring, trains were too crowded or too prissy, airplanes made him sick, and boats were acceptable at the bare minimum that Colin was not driving.

Never again.

But this. This was quickly climbing his ranks of least favourite.

Damian popped out on the other side of the tube, stepping out and observing his surroundings. They had landed in a hallway leading to a closed door, light grey paneling making up the walls, ceilings, and floors. Windows lined the hallways, showing the expanse of space out the doors, giving Damian a very vivid reminder that if he pissed her off, he would and could be thrown out of one of said windows by an irate Wonder Woman.

His team arrived behind him, and Damian turned slightly to check on them. All were silent, heads bowed, shoulders squared. They stepped out, Colin and Jason stepping forwards to stand at the ready just slightly ahead of Damian’s shoulders. Likewise, Mara and Maya stood slightly behind Damian’s body and to the side, guarding his back while Jason and Colin covered his front.

Damian turned to the man beside the tubes, the glow and green uniform giving him away easily.

“Green Lantern, I presume?”

“You’re not Ra’s al Ghul.” The man’s eyes hardened, an eyebrow raising as his lips thinned. “Are you the messenger boy or someth-“

“Ra’s al Ghul is dead.” Damian announced coldly, narrowing his own eyes and raising his chin. “I am his successor. I would not do you the insult of sending mere messengers after promising to appear myself.” He watched, with some satisfaction, as Hal Jordan’s eyes widened, his lips parting. “I am a very busy man, as I’m sure you understand, _Jordan_ ,” Damian rolled his eyes, enjoying the way the man’s shoulders twitched at the sound of his last name. “So I’d prefer we begin this as quickly as possible.”

The man narrowed his eyes, but turned on his heel, walking forwards towards the closed door directly at the end of the hall. “Were all these guards really necessary?” Jordan asked civilly as they marched after him, united in their presence of protection. Damian allowed his shoulders to drop. No matter what, he had to have faith in his family.

“I have many enemies.” Damian shrugged. “I don’t wish for your League to be one of them, but if it comes down to it, I would rather have my family fighting at my side.”

“Family, huh?” Jordan assessed him coolly, turning his gaze towards the people at Damian’s side. He opened the door, pushing it with his hand and allowing Damian in first. He narrowed his eyes at Damian, then nodded slowly, and Damian blinked. He had not expected to see respect burn bright in any of the League’s gazes until far later. He dipped his head in thanks, marching forwards.

The room was circular, covered in the same grey paneling. A lone table sat in the middle of the room, ten seats hovering with a light buzz. The seat closest to the door was empty, as well as one amidst the heroes in the room. Sitting expectantly in their chairs; Batman, Wonder Woman, Black Canary, Aquaman, Superman, Nightwing, Flash, Green Arrow, Martian Manhunter. Green Lantern slipped by and took his seat at the table, indicating that Damian should join them.

But he seemed immune to the tension that mounted as the heroes, knowing full well what Batman looked like under the mask, stared at Damian’s visage with horror growing on their faces. Colin and Jason stopped at the door, stiffening and guarding the only entrance to the room. Damian closed his eyes briefly, stepping forwards towards his seat, Maya and Mara carefully following, eyes trained on the heroes in the room.

“As I told Green Lantern, Ra’s al Ghul is dead. I am the son to Talia al Ghul, grandson to Ra’s al Ghul. I have taken over leadership of the League.” Damian raised his eyes to stare into his father’s. The man was sitting stock still, hands beginning to tremble. Nightwing, similarly, had begun to stand. “I have been informed that I look like my father.” He said, dryly, as Nightwing’s chair pushed away from the table. The man swung around his chair, walking steadily for Damian.

“Stand.” Damian put a hand out, stilling Mara’s movements for her dagger, eyes trained and poisonous. Nightwing approached, eyeing her, but after deciding she wasn’t a threat, stood in front of Damian and placed his palms on his face, staring into Damian’s eyes. He tilted Damian’s face back and forth, disbelief etched on his features as he studied Damian’s jawline. Damian allowed him, Nightwing’s grip gentle but firm.

“I can’t believe it.” The man whispered, stepping back. “What’s your name?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing.

Damian felt the nerves churning in his stomach as he dared a glance towards his father, who had also stood, Superman at his side whispering something. The man looked furious, but from what Damian had heard, that was his general default. He knew that at a single command, Mara would jump at Nightwing, Jason would usher him out of the room, leaving Colin and Maya to cover their escape. They had planned it, should things go south. But Damian couldn’t run from this anymore.

“Damian.” He answered, glancing up at Nightwing. The man stepped back, looking towards Batman. Unspoken communication flashed between the two, and for a moment, jealousy flared in Damian’s heart. He glanced away, eyes falling to the wayside as he saw Jason stiffen with rage. 

“You’re Batman’s son?” Wonder Woman asked, still sitting.

“Yes.” Damian sighed, turning to face the League again. “It is irrelevant, however.” The whole room snapped to attention, Batman’s turning so fast Damian thought for a moment that the man had given himself whiplash. “I came here because I am the Head of the League of Shadows. I am hoping to work with your League to aid the world, instead of against.” Damian stood proudly, squaring his shoulders. “I rebelled and killed Ra’s al Ghul because I believed he was wrong. I am leading my people in a new direction, one where we aid the world instead of destroying it. No more children under my leadership will take a blade to another’s throat. My League does not kill.” Damian announced, watching as a pleased smile graced Wonder Woman’s face, echoed by Green Lantern choking on his water.

“My parentage has nothing to do with my goals here today.” Damian closed his eyes. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to see the damn near betrayed look on Nightwing’s face, the fallen one on Batman’s. He could pretend that this wasn’t happening. He felt Maya and Mara in response to his guard falling, the girls covering him. “I understand if my presence here disturbs your work. As Green Lantern put it, I will send a… messenger, to facilitate any further communications, if that is what you prefer-“

“Damian.” The whisper was quiet, yet it shut up both Damian’s rehearsed speech and Green Lantern’s spluttering. “Is he telling the truth?”

The Martian Manhunter regarded him softly, before a presence began nudging at the barriers in his mind. Damian had been extensively trained on blocking his thoughts from mind readers, and braced himself for the pain that would accompany one getting in. The alien’s presence grew stronger as he sorted through Damian’s memories, yet no pain came along with it. The alien’s lips turned down, pursing in a combination of grief and anger.

“Yes.” The alien relaxed back into his chair, a contemplative look upon his face. Batman stepped forwards, footsteps echoing like the chimes of death in Damian’s mind.  
“I’m sure you know our identities.” Batman asked, skirting around Nightwing’s prone figure. Damian nodded slowly, eyeing the man. He glanced briefly behind him as Jason twitched with every step. Slightly inclining his head, he sent Mara towards Jason, Colin stepping up to take her place beside Damian. Mara and Jason had a give and take relationship, they often calmed down the other’s panic attacks. He watched Jason relax minutely, Mara standing solidly at his side.

“I would like to run some tests of my own.” Batman said, stepping in front of Damian. Damian swallowed the tornado in his throat, nausea building, as he looked Batman up and down. He had always imagined his father taller, yet he himself couldn’t talk.

“Does it matter?” Damian tilted his head. “I don’t intend on being in your life. I will be returning home after this meeting. You can forget this ever happened.” Damian shrugged, waiting for the rejection. He felt his heart sink, anticipating the dismissal, trying to prepare himself before it hit the air.

“It matters. It may not have mattered to your mother, but it matters to me.” Batman, cautiously, telegraphing his every motion, placed his hand on Damian’s shoulder. He eyed the acid green bleeding through Damian’s hair, before returning his gaze to Damian’s eyes. “You have to… would you consider staying in Gotham? For a few days, at least?” Bruce’s eyes were pleading, searching, and if Damian could say he had never been stunned speechless. Until today. He glanced away, looking towards Colin. Colin ran most of his appointments and duties, keeping Damian on track during the day. The man’s face broke under the mask and he bent over in a fit of giggles before straightening. He threw his arms in the air, whooping softly.

“Vacation!!!” he cheered, wriggling his eyebrows as his hood fell, revealing his bright red hair.

“I am **not** taking you to McDonalds.” Damian snapped, crossing his arms and looking at Maya for help. She shrugged helplessly, smiling softly.  
“You’ll crack eventually.” She sighed, watching carefully as Batman stepped back, hope blooming on Nightwing’s face. “You always do.”

“Lies.” Damian dismissed, waving a hand, turning his back and stepping away from the table, the door automatically opening. He turned slightly, eyeing Batman. “Robinson Park, two pm tomorrow. As for the continuation of this little disaster, contact my people.” He shrugged, antsy to get out of the stuffy room. Damian practically ran out of the door, Jason swearing under his breath and he fought to catch up. Green Lantern followed, activating the tubes for them and sending them off with a dazed wave.

Outside, Damian fell to the ground and hugged the pavement, as Mara worriedly rolled him over and began fussing, Jason pulling a granola bar out of his pockets.

“Oh, that absolutely _sucked_.” Damian groaned.


	3. Punctuality and Alfred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian and Colin go to meet Bruce at the Manor.
> 
> ...After hitting McDonalds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of went on a rampage. :)

“I still cannot fathom how you talked me into this.” Damian crossed his arms, a tired scowl on his face as he gripped at the bridge of his nose. He opened his eyes the slightest bit, feeling the blood vessels bursting in his temples as he glared up at the changing menu board. He turned to the redhead beside him, feeling his blood pressure spike just by Colin’s mere bouncy presence. “This is so unhealthy! Even the salad is bad for you!”

“You just haven’t learned how to McLove it yet.” Colin hummed, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. Colin had on a blank black t-shirt, a plaid jacket unbuttoned and with the sleeves rolled up atop it, a pair of thick jeans and new combat boots. A few of the bracelets that he and Jason had made one night lay across his wrist, his fingers playing with the strings aimlessly. Clutched in his other hand, Colin held the ticket of the food that Damian had purchased in a mere moment of weakness. An employee carrying a large bag for Damian’s salad, another, smaller bag for Colin’s burger and fries, along with two drink cups, walked around their counter and called out the number. Colin skipped forward, Damian following with a sigh. The girl’s nametag read “Sierra”, and while she was not as creepily friendly as the girl who had taken their order, she was still pleasant. Colin handed Damian his salad bag and a drink cup, while he asked Sierra for a few ketchup packets for his fries. Damian wandered away from the counter, finding the soda dispenser.

He placed his cup under the ice dispenser, filling it nearly halfway with ice, before moving to the iced tea dispenser and allowing the cup to fill. Colin walked by moments later, narrowing his eyes before choosing to mix orange and strawberry Fruitopia without any ice. Damian made a face, checking his bag for a fork and knife. He had asked for no dressing and was pleased to find no trace of the packet in the bag. 

“You have everything?” Damian asked Colin as they moved to exit the restaurant.

“Yup!” Colin grinned, “Now let’s go, we have about twenty minutes before we have to meet a Mr. Bruce Wayne in the park.” Colin opened the door to the fast food establishment and allowed Damian to walk through, the door closing behind them. They walked down the sidewalk leading to the restaurant and onto the pavement beside the road. It was only a few minutes from the park.

Damian’s new maroon hoodie smelled like his favourite laundry detergent – subtle, but still lavender enough to soothe his nerves. He buried his face in the cloth, eyeing Colin. He sipped at his drink, stealing a few of Colin’s fries. They entered the park, finding a bench and sitting down, Damian opening his salad and beginning to crunch on the edamame beans on top, savouring the taste. Colin dug into his burger, opening the beige and blue box up, lifting his sandwich. He took a big bite, licking the leftover tartar sauce off the corners of his mouth.

“McDonalds, huh?” Damian looked up as two young men approached, both with slightly long black hair. One’s eyes were a deep blue colour, his muscles very defined but his frame willowy. Damian eyed the same set of shoulders he had seen a day prior and glanced up into the same strong jawline of one Richard Grayson. He looked to the shorter young man beside Richard. Lithe, but his body spoke volumes of training through the hard lines of his muscles. Thin, slightly slouched, but a calculating look in his eyes. This must be Timothy Drake, the current Robin.

Grandfather had spoken fondly of this one.

“The last time you fought my grandfather,” Damian said, meeting Timothy’s eyes, “You lay a blow that hindered his mobility. Without that injury, he would have killed me during my last confrontation with him.” Damian felt Colin still beside him, arm tensing beside Damian’s. Timothy’s eyebrows raised, surprise shining in his ice cold eyes. “Thank you.” Damian looked away, folding his hands in his lap.

“I…” Timothy blinked, before a genuine smile overtook his face. He stretched out an open palm, the mildly dangerous look he had been sporting before gone. “It’s Damian, right? Call me Tim.”

“Tim, then.” Damian accepted Tim’s handshake, the other male’s grip firm but not stifling. Absently, Damian mused that Tim had the handshake of a businessman.  
“Oi, Dames.” Colin nudged at his side as Damian let go of Tim’s hand. “I know for a fact that you didn’t eat breakfast, you need to finish your salad.” Colin raised an eyebrow, glancing pointedly at Damian’s salad, laying forgotten at his side.

“Hmph.” Damian huffed, grabbing the bowl and his fork, continuing to munch on the leaves.

“I’m Colin Wilkes, Damian’s personal guard.” Colin accepted a handshake from both Tim and Richard, receiving a “The name’s Dick, nice to meet you” in return from Richard. “We were under the impression that Bruce Wayne would be coming here to meet us?” Colin asked, tilting his head. “Not that we specifically were trying to avoid you two, but,” Colin shrugged. “We were hoping to clear up some issues with the man himself.”

“He’s at the Manor.” Tim answered, leaning back, his university jacket making his rather muscular frame nearly vanish under the heavy fabric. “He wanted to run some genetic tests, just to make sure, and we can’t exactly lug all that equipment into the middle of the park.” Tim’s eyes scanned the younger boys, noting how Damian got all too focused on a duck, waddling to the pond.

“No.” Colin narrowed his eyes at Damian.

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” Defeated, Damian went back to his salad.

Beside him, Dick coughed lightly to disguise his laughter while Tim’s lips quirked up in a smile. “Would you mind coming back to the Manor with us? I promise it’ll be worth your time. And I get it,” Tim raised his palms in a placating gesture. “You don’t know us yet. But if things go south, I personally swear that I will help you pin Dick down, so we can finally shave his chest hair.” Tim closed his eyes, placing a hand over his heart in solemn promise.

“You’re not putting my chest hair on the line!” Dick argued hotly, spinning around to face Tim with disbelief in his eyes. Tim opened one eye saintly, raising an eyebrow.

“How much is your chest hair worth compared to this?” Tim gestured towards Damian, both vigilantes stoutly ignoring how Colin flinched towards Damian, as if he were anticipating an attack. Dick glanced towards Damian, but finally sighed as resignation hit his body posture.

“Let’s go, then. We brought a car.” Tim said, stepping away as Damian and Colin went to the garbage can beside them, throwing out their trash. Damian sighed lightly.

Cars were such a bore.

\---

“Alfred, is everything ready?” Bruce paced the entranceway, eyes scanning over the multiple paintings and pieces of elegant furniture. He, Alfred, and the boys had just scrubbed the entire house in preparation for this visit, but still. Everything needed to be perfect. Alfred had gone to purchase groceries, as he was cooking up a storm for their dinner. Bruce had wanted all sorts of options – he knew Talia had recently gone vegetarian, perhaps Damian had something to do with that decision?

He continued pacing, gripping at his chin. His adoption of Dick had been rather spur-of-the-moment, his adoption of Tim being driven by the desperate desire to protect an innocent child from the neglect of his parents. Bruce had never had to wait for his sons.

This was driving him crazy.

Bruce remembered looking at him, so young, but so tired. He had watched the shadows dance underneath Damian’s eyes, watched the strength shine from his acidic green pupils, so alike Talia’s. He was shorter, dark skin and even darker hair, long, green as it fell down his back in slightly curly waves so reminiscent of his mother. Damian’s cheekbones, the shape of his eyes, all screamed Talia. But Bruce had seen his own features within that jawline, the curve of his ears, his slightly upturned hair, the thickness of his hair.

Bruce had known hours spent trying to tame his thick hair, and seeing the same on Damian, yet so long nearly made him wince at how much the boy must spend on conditioners.

“Alfred, did you-“

“Master Bruce.” Alfred stepped out of the dining room and into Bruce’s line of sight, sending him an aggravated look. “I did pick up extra conditioner and I set up five extra rooms just in case Master Damian’s guard joined us. We have cleaned the manor top to bottom, the gardens are all trimmed, there will be something that Master Damian can eat regardless of his potential allergies or food preferences, and I even tidied up your mess in your… workshop, Sir.” Alfred drawled. “You have faced a psychotic clown with a penchant for murder with more courage than you are now, when faced with a teenage boy.” Alfred raised an eyebrow. “And while I perfectly understand the fear of moody, pungent teenagers – after all, I did have to deal with you during your rather unsightly ‘I am the night’ phase – what you have said about Master Damian’s demeanour suggests that he is well put together. I recommend you emulate him and calm yourself before you wear a hole in my vacuumed carpets.” Alfred huffed lightly, spinning on his heel and walking away.

As Bruce sat in stony silence, mulling over Alfred’s words, the doorbell rang. Bruce nearly felt his soul leave his body, but quickly pulled himself together, coughing into his hand to check his breath, straightening his already perfect suit, pulling at his tie, and slicking his hair back. He squared his shoulders and faced the door, stepping forwards to pull it open.

At the front, Damian stood, looking so much younger without his League robes on. His eyes had been glancing over a document, lit up as a hologram originating from what looked like a watch on his wrist, but he dismissed it when the door opened. Beside him stood the rather excitable redhead from the meeting, holding a McDonalds drink cup in his hand. Bruce’s own boys stood behind the other two, Dick smiling softly, the cruel façade Tim put on whenever faced with the League of Assassins gone in Bruce’s youngest’s eyes.

“Hello, Mr. Wayne.” Colin bowed at the waist, sweeping an arm out in an elegant, practiced gesture. “Colin Wilkes, at your service.” The boy cheekily looked up, straightening as he gestured towards Damian, who had crossed his arms and rolled his eyes fondly. “And my brother in all but blood, Damian al Ghul.”

“My, what manners.” Alfred said from behind Bruce, peeking around the man as Bruce stepped away to let the group inside.

“Alfred Pennyworth.” Alfred greeted, extending a hand for Colin to shake. He turned to Damian, offering his hand to the young man. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you, Master Damian.” He said, raising an eyebrow.

“I have a cat named Alfred.” Damian said in response, his eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“Hel-“ Bruce cleared his throat, colouring slightly as his voice cracked. “Hello Damian.”

“Hello, Father.” The boy said in response, as Bruce sized the teenager up. Damian tilted his head, crossing his arms. “I thought you’d be taller.”

Bruce glanced at the cup in Colin’s hand. “You brought him to McDonalds? You seemed… very adamant. Last time… I, well, saw you.” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, sensing Alfred rubbing at his temples in aggravation from the corner of his eye. Bruce stoutly decided to ignore his old friend – who was not being even _slightly_ helpful – and turned back to the son that had existed for however many years that Bruce had not known about, had probably grown up under the reign of Ra’s al Ghul, was most likely a trained assassin, was the current Head of the League of Assassins, and for all he very well knew, could be plotting their murders at this exact moment. “I hadn’t thought you would cave.” Bruce said, his hand dropping.

“He always does.” Colin stuck up his pointer finger, subtly moving in front of Damian, blocking Bruce’s view of the smaller boy. He narrowed his eyes slightly, watching Colin’s posture, feeding off Damian. The redhead was tense, but clearly willing to play the part of the distraction should his charge decide to flee. Bruce watched Damian shift, narrowing his eyes as he realized that the boy was feeling just as awkward as Bruce himself. The man relaxed, minutely, and smiled with less teeth.

“We have dinner set up for whenever we’re finished downstairs, but… I may as well show you to the BatCave.” Bruce stepped away from the group, eyeing Damian from the new angle this allowed him. He watched as the boy huffed, grabbing at one of Colin’s pockets on his jacket and pulling out a large scrunchie. Absolutely mystified, Bruce watched as Damian piled his hair in a messy bun, pieces falling in front of his ears, framing his face.

_If only half the rich ladies could do a bun like that, the galas would be so much more interesting._ Bruce mused, smiling softly.

“Follow me.” Bruce began walking down the hallway, leading left towards the grandfather clock. He set it to the correct key, using his shoulder width to keep prying eyes away from it. He wanted to trust Damian, but he knew very little about him. Bruce waited for the entrance to open, before stepping into the lift that would take them to the cave. He stepped inside first, watching as Colin bodily shouldered in before Damian could. A moment passed, then Colin nodded, and Damian stepped elegantly inside. Colin’s eyes scanned the elevator with a mask of joyful curiosity, but Bruce saw through it.

“I didn’t realize your people would be so loyal to you.” Bruce said softly as the elevator descended. Dick and Tim both glanced at him in abject horror. He could almost hear the arguments for merely taping Bruce’s mouth shut. “You’re the Head of the League of Assassins, that doesn’t exactly-“

“Damian died trying to protect me.” Colin cut in, voice flat, emotionless. From where he stood, Bruce could feel the fury radiating off the young boy, and a chill went down his spine. Dick stiffened, falling into a defensive stance while Tim grinned, crossing his arms. “It is not your place to question my loyalty.” Colin glanced up at Bruce through the corner of his eye. Bruce nearly flinched, watching as dark paths carved into the boy’s skin, following his veins. They began to stick out, the boy’s muscles twitching, as if they were fighting not to grow.

Colin was a meta.

Damian stepped up, placing a hand on Colin’s back, the redhead relaxing beneath his touch. “It would be odd, to an outsider.” Damian acknowledged, tipping his head lightly. “The League does not know much loyalty except to the sword. I had hoped that my revolution had changed that, but my… guards, so to speak, have been loyal to me, and only me, for several years now.” Damian rolled his eyes, huffing every so slightly. “Loyalty that has been bought with kiddie cones from McDonalds.”

“Which we are so getting on our way back.” Colin smiled, weakly, seeming relieved at Damian’s attempt at a joke.

The elevator dinged as it arrived at its destination, the doors swinging open into the lair of the Bat. As promised, Alfred had tidied everything up. Bruce snuck a glance at Damian’s face, hoping to see awe, perhaps respect, in his eyes, but the boy’s attention was drawn to something shoved up against the wall. Dick’s old Nightwing bike, the engine having broken down, was stranded, forgotten in the face of the new bike Tim had built for him. Bruce blinked carefully at the wonder in Damian’s eyes as he traced the open machinery. Bruce watched as Damian’s hands twitched as if he were aching to get a hold of the machine.

“You like bikes?” Dick asked, stepping closer to the boy. Colin tilted his head, watching Dick carefully, but made no move to forcefully move his person.

“Not specifically. I just enjoy tinkering, and that looks like it would make a fine project.” Damian answered carefully, clinically, as if they were not detectives who could see the excitement in his body language.

“Tell you what, every time you come to visit, you can work on her.” Dick grinned, a sly look in his eyes.

“Who says we’re staying in Gotham?” Damian raised an eyebrow. “I have a literal kingdom to run. I have people I need to help, my time is wasted gallivanting off in some other country.” He flapped his hand, beginning to count things off on his fingers. “I have to rehabilitate all those who chose to leave the League after the revolution, that means organizing their living spaces and aiding them in finding treatment for their trauma as well as a therapist that meshes well with them. Along with those I need to find homes for the children that were abandoned as soldiers, their parents unable or unwilling to claim them. Then I need to finish restructuring the League’s hierarchy to make it more accessible as a position of work rather than something you devote your life to. There are still small factions loyal to my grandfather, and while Mother and Mara have done excellently in putting them down peacefully, they still remain and are violent as ever.” Damian reached up to grip the bridge of his nose, sighing. “After I have control of the internal operations, then I need to focus on the external operations. How do we go about helping the world, as we were originally intending to do, without the shadow of our reputation haunting us? Aid from your League will be beneficial, but not enough. Then there’s the issue of the Lazarus Pits, and don’t even get me started on those!”

Bruce could almost see the blood vessels popping.

“So no,” Damian glared at Dick, his face scrunching up. “I cannot keep visiting and you bribing me with that motorcycle is not going to work.”

They stepped into the cave in silence, Damian taking a seat into one of the medical cots Alfred had set up earlier, Colin taking the place right beside him and rubbing Damian’s palms soothingly. He took Damian’s right hand, massaging the skin while Bruce gently extracted some blood, feeding it through the machine.

“If you don’t mind me asking.” Tim looked up at Colin and Damian. “What exactly happened when you seized control of the League?”

Damian glanced at Colin, their faces unreadable. Colin nodded, then Damian relented. Bruce straightened. He had hesitated to use the label of ‘son’, when referring to Damian, but he wanted to know more about him. He wanted this child as much as he had wanted the others. And come to Bruce nearly full grown or not, Bruce wanted to know this boy.

“Colin is a meta and when my grandfather found out, he ordered Colin to appear in the scientists’ labs for testing. I refused to allow him to go.” Damian said, blankly, staring solidly at the wall across the cave, studying the giant penny. “It would be madness – any subjects that end up down there never come out. That night, they abducted Colin and took him to the coliseum, where Grandfather would execute traitors. He had Colin tied to a stake and was going to burn him alive.” Damian audibly swallowed, shaking slightly. “So I intervened.”

“He jumped up onto the platform, cut the head off of the executioner and then cut me free from my bonds.” Colin said, leaning forwards and putting more effort into massaging Damian’s hand. “He thrust his sword in the air, the light from the sun caught on it – oh, he looked so cool. Like a real hero.” Colin’s eyes were shining as he smiled softly. “And he started screaming, told Ra’s off and declared war. Ra’s was **furious**. He ordered the immediate execution of Damian, me, and all of the other guards loyal to Dames.”

“We escaped, narrowly.” Damian murmured.

“And by narrowly, he means that he died of injuries he sustained in the fight and then our guard spent months running around trying to get to a Lazarus Pit to revive him, until finally, Mother of the Year, Talia, finally decided to pick a side and joined us. She got us to a Pit, and then with the soldiers loyal to her, we launched an all-out attack on Ra’s. The League has bases in every country, their influence spans far further than the fortress they inhabit. With every base we conquered, we found more and more people willing to fight for us.” Colin explained. “Damian swore to them that if they helped him take down Ra’s, he’d set them free once he was the Head and that he’d help them get used to society again.”

“We spent two years of our lives fighting, clawing our way up to the fortress Grandfather had holed himself in. I believe it was days after he had kidnapped you, Tim, part of our push was to get you out of there, but you got yourself out and injured him. His personal attendants later confessed that he felt honoured that you had wounded him, so he had decided not to heal the injury. Decrepit old man.” Damian snarled, gaze darkening.

“While the rest of the guard took on Ra’s personal forces, Damian cornered him in the throne room and killed him.” Colin explained. “He had stepped out with the decaying heart of someone who had bathed in the Lazarus waters far too many times to be healthy and cut it into ribbons in front of what was left of our armies.”

“Ra’s whole personal forces seems a lot for four people.” Dick mused, eyeing Colin. Bruce watched as the redhead seemed to deflate, drawing in on himself.

“We once numbered eleven.” Colin explained softly. “There were many casualties that day and we were all willing to die for someone who we believed could save the world. I’m a meta, so I needed no help, but one of our fallen was a sorcerer. She was able to craft items or teach those who were able how to use magic, and that made us stronger. She gathered all her energy and blew her body to pieces so that we could puncture through the fortress’ defences. She had always denied it when we asked, but I still think she could see some of the future and she knew what needed to be done.” Colin explained. “I don’t regret it – none of us do. We mourned, we keep them in our thoughts, and we march forwards. It’s all we can do.”

“Besides,” Damian shrugged. “One of our surviving friends sort of rules over the demonic realm, and if he finds out that I died without completing my goals, he’s going to throw me in purgatory and blast Nickelback for all eternity.” Damian shuddered.

The elevators dinged once more as they opened, Colin hastily wiping tears before they could fall down his cheeks. Alfred looked on the sombre mood, face never cracking once as he held a plate of cookies.

“I believe I’ve arrived just in time.” He stated.


	4. Clowning Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian pays a special little someone a special little visit.

“Thank you for your hospitality, but I’m afraid we must be going.” Damian wiped his mouth with his napkin delicately, long and slender fingers pressing slightly at the edges of the table as he stood. Tim eyed Bruce carefully as the man nearly jumped up in his seat, having been silent all dinner, mulling over the positive parentage results in Damian’s DNA.  
“You’re going already?” Bruce asked, eyebrows raised. Damian’s eyelashes lifted as he stared Bruce down, a hard look in his eyes.

“I have something I need to do here, in Gotham, before we return home.” he answered carefully. “One of my men was traumatized, to say the least, by your… clown.” Damian tucked his chair in gently, fingers slipping off the back of it. “However, the only real clown thus far has been your attempts to deal with him.” Damian’s eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. He raised his chin as Bruce shrunk back every so slightly, and even though he was looking up, everyone knew that he was looking _down_ at Bruce. Tim almost whistled through his teeth.

Almost.

“We’re not going to kill him.” Colin shrugged, still facing the table as Damian walked off. “We’re just delivering a message. Damian has plans for him, anyways.”

“You know what?” Tim murmured, standing. He touched the table cloth lightly with his fingers, feeling the delicate lace under the skin. “I think it’s about time I had a change of pace, as well.” Tim glanced up, smiling softly as Damian turned, his hair turning with him and nearly hitting him in the eye. “I would like to come with you, back to your base. If you’ll allow it.” Tim’s eyes moved over to Dick and Bruce, who were both staring wide eyed. He almost cowed and sat back down, but moving his gaze again brought him to Alfred, who had a proud smile on his face. Tim set his nerves. “I’ll sort of act like a representative for our League?” he shrugged, meeting Damian’s eyes. “It’ll be like a sign of good faith between our organizations.”

“I don’t trust you.” Colin interjected, fingers twitching. Tim blinked softly, watching as the boy struggled to articulate his feelings. “You get this look in your eyes… you watch, and you never say a word. You’re always collecting something, and you smile when you get what you want.” Colin’s eyes suddenly went wide as he grinned, hand stretching out to meet Tim’s. “But maybe some day that information will be in our benefit, eh?”

“Perhaps.” Tim grinned in response, shaking Colin’s hand.

“You can’t just go-“ Bruce tried to interject, weakly, but Alfred quickly shot him down.

“May I remind you, Master Bruce, but Master Timothy is a young man in his twenties that can go whenever he chooses. Would you like a suitcase to pack some of your things, Master Timothy?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Damian waved his hand, dismissing Alfred’s suggestion. “I have far too much money for me to know what to do with, I can just purchase him whatever he needs.” Damian gave Tim a once-over. Tim stood still, feeling apprehension trickle in. Colin may be able to strongly influence Damian, but Damian could still make his own choices. The young man turned on his heel and walked towards the door, head hunched down. Colin chuckled lightly and grabbing Tim’s arm, dragging him along as he ran after his Lord.

“C’mon! You’ll have a lot to learn!” Colin dragged Tim after them, Tim increasing his pace to keep up with the boy’s excitable energy. They exited out the doors, Tim waving goodbye to a stunned Bruce, proud Dick, and knowing Alfred, running after Colin.

Until Colin’s body **erupted**. His veins rippled and changed, his body snapping and crackling as bones grew stronger, became larger to support an enormous frame. Tim’s mouth dropped open as the boy’s clothes ripped off, leaving on only a dark, skin tight body suit he had apparently been wearing the entire time. His hair vanished except for a tuft on his head, Colin’s new body towering massively over Tim’s own. He took a step back cautiously, eyeing Colin’s _gigantic_ shoulders nervously. The veins in the boy’s next stood out, puffs of air coming out of his nostrils.

Tim pointed at Colin, his mouth opening and closing without any sort of sound.

“This is his ability.” Damian grinned, watching Tim with eyebrows raised. Tim flushed lightly in embarrassment and ducked his head, letting out a - manly! Very manly! – squeak as Damian was hoisted up onto one of those gigantic shoulders. He peered down at Tim from his perch before wriggling out of his hoodie and discarding the garment. He did the same with his pants, leaving only his boots. Damian, too, was wearing the same black body suit, but with neon green accents, the symbol of the al Ghuls stark upon his chest. He quickly undid his bun, tying it up neatly, sticking a pin procured out of a sheathe in his thigh to keep it up.

“We should hurry.” Damian looked out onto the city. “Before the Bat follows us.” the last rays of the sunset shone through the sky, pink and orange and far too bright for Tim to look at. Damian gave him a suspicious side eye, narrowing his creepily clear eyes. “Colin has informed me that you have weapons and a suitable outfit for this sort of activity on your person?” Damian phrased it as a question, but Tim got the feeling that Damian never asks a question he doesn’t know the answer to.

“I do.” Tim quickly stripped off his jacket and pants, leaving him in a dark red suit, belts and ties around his chest and hips, Robin symbol bright on his chest. He tugged his cape from where he had stashed it in a ball, stuffed into the hood of his jacket. Tim quickly slid a batarang into his hand, testing the familiar weight. He watched as Damian slowly smiled, this one far more dangerous than his previous.

The only warning Tim got was Colin’s muscles tensing as he took off on one leg, speeding forwards. Cracks appeared in the concrete where he lifted off, seeing to fly forwards with the force of his momentum. Tim huffed and sprinted, catching up with the two and grabbing his grapple gun, aiming for the ledge of the building Colin was preparing to climb up.

As they made their way up the skyscraper, Tim watched as Damian lifted a mask, covering his nose and mouth, leaving only his hair and his eyes to stand out from his face. Damian’s eyes flitted over to him as Colin reached the summit, Tim only a beat behind. They stood for a moment, Damian’s piercing gaze moving towards the city. Tim watched as the younger boy took in the city with a grim satisfaction, watching the city lights burn as the sun’s last light faded from the sky.

Tim wondered what he was thinking.

“I will refer to you as Robin for now.” Damian said, flicking his eyes over at Tim again. “But when you’re with my entourage, you’ll at least need a new costume. My people fade into the shadows, we do not chase them away.” Damian’s tongue clicked in a -TT- sound and Tim fought the urge to chuckle. “You will refer to Colin as Abuse and myself as the Head of the Demon if speaking to others about me. If you are addressing me directly, call me Ra’s. If that makes you uncomfortable, use any masculine pronoun you would use to address someone of higher status, but do not call me by my name until we’re alone.” Damian glanced down at him and Tim nodded at the steel in the boy’s eyes. “My courts do not take kindly to deviants from tradition.”

“Understood.” Tim nodded curtly.

“Let’s go. I can’t wait to get out of this city.” Damian grumbled slightly, lifting the mask so he could cough into it. Tim’s sharp eyes didn’t miss the slight display of weakness, assessing how Abuse readjusted his hold on the new Head of the Demon, huffing lightly in response. Abuse took off once more, heading for the edge of the rooftop. With a soft grunt, he took off, landing on the next building. Silently, Tim landed beside him, grappling hook spinning back into its holster.

They had no hiccups, coming to an area just north of the docks. The warehouses glinted up at them, red and dulled, with nearly faded numbers from years of use. Old and dull, yet still standing out of sheer spite. Fitting for Gotham, Tim mused. They had went from the mansion’s rooves to the highest skyscrapers, to the old gothic architecture that littered the city, to the poorer houses with spots where Damian softly pointed out weaknesses, avoiding any accidents due to Abuse’s increased mass. Abuse let Damian off his shoulder, the lithe boy stepping down and cracking his back, nearly bending in half. Damian jumped down from the roof himself, motioning for Tim to follow. Abuse stayed behind, sitting on the roof’s edge as he watched his companions leave.

“Why are we leaving Abuse behind?” Tim hissed quietly as he and Damian approached the warehouse numbered 22.

“You’ll see soon enough.” Damian answered, a defiant smirk on his face. Tim drew back slightly as Damian rapped on the side of the warehouse, tilting his wrist and head, popping a hip out. He pursed his lips, a crease appearing between his eyebrows as he posed as the world’s most impatient child. Tim kept his face carefully blank. Damian had a plan here. Tim had had enough experience with Batman to know when to get involved and when to stay out of it.

The warehouse shuddered as someone threw the door open, sort of like a garage door. A tall, muscled, scarred man stepped through, a wide smile cut into his face. He gestured for the boys to be let inside, eyeing Tim’s Robin costume suspiciously. Tim kept his head down, following Damian’s steps. The younger man overexaggerated his steps, putting weight into them so that they would create noise. He huffed lightly, blowing a piece of his hair away from his face, the arrogant expression never leaving him.

Had Tim not known any better, he would have believed that Damian was annoyed, frustrated and at the very end of his patience. They walked towards a chair, facing away from them, a mop of green hair visible at the back of it. Tim noted, with some satisfaction, that it was one of those black office chairs, spinnable and on wheels. Joker spun himself around to face them, Tim nearly wincing at the poorly applied clown makeup, the powdery white clumping around his cheeks in unattractive lumps. A little bit of foundation and eyeliner could do a lot for a person – but this? This was just ridiculous.

“To what do I owe the pleasure…” Joker grinned manically, before chuckling, the rips in his mouth opening even wider. Tim winced, knowing full well Arkham Asylum had tried to sew the tears together, but he just kept ripping them until it healed, leaving ugly scar tissue behind. “Oh, mighty al Ghul?” the Joker stood before bending at the waist, touching the floor with his fingers as he bowed. Tim had to give it to the al Ghul’s reputation – no one wanted them at their doorstep, not even the insane, it seemed.

“Stand.” at Damian’s sharp order, the man straightened at the waist, pupils shrinking. He stared down at the short al Ghul, head tilting to the side as his fingers twitched lightly. “I have something for you.” from one of the thigh pockets sown into Damian’s suit, he procured a sealed envelope, handing it to the Joker. There was a slight hesitation before the man seemed to remember that he liked potentially explosive items, the Joker reaching out and taking the envelope.

He held it in his hands for a moment, before reaching up and tearing the weak seal off the paper. He rummaged into the envelope, making a show of looking for whatever was in there. Tim was certain that if Damian’s eyebrow raised any higher it was going to cramp and be stuck there. Joker finally took the small, folded piece of paper out and opened it, staring blankly at it. From where Tim was standing, it looked like a blur of colours in the figure of a person, standing in a house? A potted plant was beside the figure.

“Hmm, what is this?” Joker spun around on his heel, eyes focused on the little drawing. “A painting of a dead man? What he could have been? Oh, but he was so small back then, I barely recognized him.” the man hummed under his breath, his eyes rapidly moving towards Damian.

“Not a painting.” Damian acknowledged. “A photograph.”

“A photograph? My, my, those rumours of your immortality must be truly true for this little guy to be alive!” Joker tipped his head back, giggles spewing from his red mouth, his tongue hanging out on one side as his eyes remained open, unfocused.

“I believe it’s only wise to advise our opponents when this sort of situation occurs.” Damian sighed softly, shifting in feigned annoyance. “But you have harmed someone I care for.” Damian’s eyes narrowed, his stance tightening and becoming offensive, the men surrounding them all tensing in response. Joker stopped laughing, staring the boy down from his bent position. Damian flipped a knife out from his waist, spinning it in his hand leisurely.

“I, the new Ra’s al Ghul, Head of the Demon, sentence you to death.” Damian pointed the tip of the knife at Joker’s throat.

Before Tim could move, the roof caved in, sharp pieces of metal caving inwards under a massive weight, crushing some, injuring others and pinning the lucky ones. Abuse stood from the side of the cave in, blood leaking from under his feet. Tortured moans echoed through the warehouse, the sound of the water lapping against the docks a far too peaceful sound.

Tim forced his muscles to relax, remembered that he was no longer in Bruce’s territory. He was with the League of Assassins. Tim watched, soundlessly, as Abuse lightly stepped on the Joker’s neck as the man spat out blood, a shard embedded in his back. Tim remembered all too well the urge the kill, to watch the twisted blood pour out of the tainted man, grinning through rotting teeth as his body decayed, promising to take Tim’s own to continue his rule.

Tim’s vision had gone red. Yet, he watched Damian, and saw none of that same blind rage. The boy was careful, stepping forwards with silence, coming to stand beside his trusted advisor. Damian lightly flicked his wrist back, adjusting the grip on his knife. When Damian flicked his wrist forwards, the knife flew, the thin blade sinking deep into the Joker’s left eye. The knife had not had a handle, resembling a needle more than a knife, and Tim watched in morbid fascination as the blade sunk in until almost nothing remained, the movement snapping out of the Joker’s body, his remaining eye rolling up. Blood began to seep from the wound.

That knife was built for that purpose – far too thin and sharp to be of use for anything else. Tim studied Damian carefully as the boy stepped away and turned towards the exit, gently plucking the pin out of his hair. His bun fell in a curly mess around his back, but he dropped the pin on the ground, making his way out of the warehouse. Abuse was hot on his heels, following without a word.

Tim sneaked a glance back before following them, eyes widening as he saw the golden, etched crest of the al Ghuls facing up. It would be no mistake to anyone who was behind this.

Damian wanted them to see it.

Tim hurried after him, silent and pensive. On one hand, killing the Joker wasn’t the answer to lifting the pressure of trauma. On the other, they had tried for years to make the man any saner. Nothing was working, and while the Joker kept killing, people kept living in fear, they had done nothing.

They stepped away from the warehouse, Damian’s hair blowing loosely in the wind.

“Who exactly was in the picture you showed him?” Tim asked after a breath of silence, seeing Abuse let out a soft breath of relief. Tim eyed him, realizing that Abuse probably thought that Tim would turn on them after that little errand.

“The man who raised me in place of my father.” Damian said, turning, his hair hiding his face from Tim’s eyes. “My brother, Jason.”

“Jason…” Tim mused, before his eyes snapped open and his muscles tightened.

He remembered nights of hiding behind bricks, armed with only his camera, desperate to get even a glimpse of the bright light, the shining star of Gotham. He remembered idolizing blurry pictures and he remembered figuring it out. He remembered tearing all the photos off his walls as the news of his death hit Gotham, tears rolling down his cheeks-

He remembered begging to become the next Robin, fighting and clawing to work his way up to fit into shoes he still couldn’t fill.

“Jason Todd?”


	5. Damian needs a milkshake before he starts crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dami gets a milkshake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm sorry I haven't been updating. I've just had a lot of stuff going on - I was recently diagnosed with General Anxiety Disorder, so my therapist is putting me on anti-depressants and I've just been dealing with that. I'm not giving up on this though, I promise!

Damian’s voice had begun small and Tim wasn’t sure what else he had been expecting. Whilst they swooped among rooftops and swung between railings, Damian explained to Tim what his …childhood had been. And it made Tim just slightly sick, to think of someone having to live with Ra’s al Ghul.

“When I was young,” Damian’s voice had a firm, unyielding quality to it, but Tim could watch Damian’s attention pulled away from their surroundings and towards the story he was going to tell his audience. Tim wondered if the certainty and ability to command was born or trained into Damian, especially considering who his parents were. “I was made to train, to constantly sharpen my mind and body. Mother promised that it was because I was the heir to the demon. I was the heir, just not in the way she nor I had imagined.” They had left the docks and Joker’s body far behind and were now heading back towards the richer, safer district. A hotel loomed in the near distance, soft golden glow drawing Tim in.   
He dared a glance at Damian as they approached, the boy effortlessly slinging himself across gaps between buildings. Damian had a sort of grace to his movements that belief years of practice resulting in mastery, but it had none of the showy, for-fun flips and tricks that Dick preferred.

“Grandfather had been planning to take my body as his own when I turned sixteen. He tried, multiple times, to insert devices that would ease the transition for us both, but someone always got in his way. Mother brought Jason to us after the Joker killed him, and though we had healed him, and he was sound of body, his mind was in tatters. “ Damian did a beautiful cartwheel, launching himself across two buildings and then catching his body by following through into a roll. Tim followed, not as graceful. He took the impact hard and winced as he felt it shudder up his heels and into his shins, taking a mental note to be more careful.

“But even when he could not use his mind in the slightest, Jason still understood that Grandfather should never be allowed to touch me. It was his interference that caused Grandfather to finally relent in allowing us to use the Lazarus Pit to restore Jason fully, as he believed that perhaps Jason would finally back off in his protection of me.” Damian’s lips were quirked up in an amused smirk, and he shook his head slightly as they read the end of the building. “I used to look up to my Grandfather. I wanted to be like him. Jason taught me that others’ approval did not have to matter to me. He practically raised me, and I owe him my life.”

With that, Damian spun on a heel and slid down the ladder on the side of the building, finally heading off the rooftops. Abuse, who had been waiting at the bottom, grabbed at Damian when he got close enough and maneuvered the smaller boy onto his shoulder. As Tim peered down to gauge the drop and watch the exchange, Abuse raised an eyebrow, as if daring Tim to try the same trick as Damian. Tim narrowed his eyes and opted to climb down like a normal person instead. You know, the sort of person that doesn’t have a mutant bodyguard ready to catch you at the drop of the hat - _because that wasn’t worrying **at all**._

“Jason has spent years healing from what has been done to him, and he likes this wretched city even less than I do. This place brings back poor memories for him, so we are set to leave for home as soon as we’ve arrived.” They walked a few short steps to the side wall of the hotel. Glancing around, Tim could see a green filter on each of the security cameras, likely there to allow Damian and his team to come and go as they pleased. Tim took a short step to fall in line with Abuse, pausing when Damian locked eyes with him. The boy was batting his hair out of his face absently, the green strands clearly getting in the way of his sight.

“How do you stand it?” Damian asked, gesturing towards the air. Tim made a non-committal noise, glancing around the city. The air was thick and grey, a heavy weight of almost-smog pressing violently down onto his lungs every time he drew breath. The streets even around this beautiful hotel with dedicated keepers seemed to run rampant with the residue of sin. Gotham was a place where the sun shone on funerals and rained on weddings; and where those who deserved it suffered the least. Anyone was crazy to come here, but insane to stay.

“It becomes a part of you.” Tim finally answered after the awkward beat of silence. “It calls you back home and you just… cannot leave.” They had all tried to leave. Tim had sworn that he would finish with Gotham, finish with vigilantism, and finish with putting his life on the line... just after this final mission. In the end, however, he always put the mask back on. Dick had also tried to run, escaping to Bludhaven, but drawing himself into her own rings of gang and crimes. Bruce couldn’t ever leave. He hadn’t even tried.

Damian snorted. “It calls you back, hm? A mental illness is also something that becomes part of you, but that does not mean you do not suffer for it.” Damian glared over at Gotham’s horizon disdainfully. “This place calls Jason back, too,” Abuse’s hand lifted and gripped the side of the wall. “But it is not his home. If Batman had not laid claim to this city and were he not my father, I would have had this place burned long ago.” Damian rolled his eyes as Abuse carefully started to lift himself. Tim hurried to follow, using the exact same hand and footholds the man above him did. Once they got over a certain height, Tim threw a grapple at the very top of the hotel, feeling it catch on an edge, then tested the rope, ensuring that if he fell, it would catch him. Damian made an excellent point, loathe as Tim was to admit it. Gotham trapped herself inside you. Once you lived here, you couldn’t leave. It was the only reason that Gotham still had citizens. 

Tim looked over at Damian as they climbed, seeing how the boy combed his hair back, muttering under his breath. Tim could almost see the blood vessels popping as Damian fought with his hair. Easily annoyed, then. Tim had no idea of what he was even going to do with Damian. The connections the younger had to people Tim knew, whether it was a positive or negative relationship. Tim suddenly had the realization that Damian was at the centre pf everything. Batman’s son. Head of the Demon. Raised by Jason Todd, and changing the world.

Tim had seen in the single span of hours Damian be soft enough to relent to a trip to McDonalds, furious enough to murder someone, generous enough to offer to pay for all of Tim’s possessions, and still. Nervous enough to finally meet one’s father. It was a very human behaviour from someone Tim should have considered incapable of being human. Damian was a walking mass of contradiction. One part of Tim screamed that he should be wary, very wary, around this person. _He’s an al Ghul! He killed Ra’s – not even Bruce could do that!_ Tim’s mind screamed. The other part of him sympathized with Damian, gently crooning that he was far too young to have this sort of responsibility thrust upon him. Damian was here, not only to meet his Father and set up ties with the Justice League, but also to seek revenge on behalf of Jason Todd. Jason Todd, who, first, was alive.

Tim had idolized him when he Was Robin, and after Tim became Robin himself, he always felt like Jason’s costume was the one thing he couldn’t fill completely. Robin was supposed to chase the shadows away, but Tim ran far too much like Bruce. He could never be Jason – oh god, Bruce! Bruce had no idea that Jason was even alive! He would be so relieved, he’d have questions, but he’d… Tim glanced up as Abuse stilled, watching as Damian delicately picked and then slid a window open. There had to be a reason that they had chosen to not inform Bruce upon their arrival. There wee bigger forces at play here than Tim believed he understood. Tim decided that he would keep the secret. It wasn’t his to tell.

“I’m going to go in and inform the others that you are here.” Damian fixed him with a look, his unnaturally green eyes narrowing and hardening cruelly. ”If you inform anyone of Jason’s presence, I will break your fingers and send you back to this decrepit city in pieces, understand?” Damian asked. His lips pressed into a thin line until Tim nodded in silent agreement.

“If I tell, not only can you break my fingers, but you can also take my caffeine supply.” Tim promised. He grimaced at the notion, hearing Abuse chuckle above him. Damian let his lips lift into a small smirk before clicking the window open and sliding in, Abuse motioning for Tim to stay put where he was. Somehow, Tim got the feeling that he had earned a modicum of trust with that statement.

“He’ll let us know when we can head inside. Let me know if your arms get tired in the meantime,” Abuse’s voice had a very raspy, deep voice in this form, one that disguised his true form completely. Even so, Tim could catch the teasing tone. “If you think you’ll fall, I can hold you.” Abuse removed a hand from the wall and twitched his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion. Tim playfully rolled his eyes and made to respond, when a flash of green caught the corner of his eye. Damian was leaning out the window, with amusement twinkling in his eyes. He nodded at Abuse, who swung himself up and shimmied through the window.

Tim felt the impact shake through the walls as much as he heard it, snickering when Abuse complained loudly, his voice slowly raising in pitch. Tim took the one step into the spot Abuse had just vacated before swinging himself feet first into the window, releasing the grapple as he did so. Tim landed in a crouch beside Colin, who had shrunk into his Colin form and rolled out of Tim’s way. Colin, now, laying on his stomach, gave Tim a thumbs up as he pocketed the retracted grapple. Tim stood and made to help Colin up, but the redhead did a weird worm stretch and boosted himself up.

Tim stepped around the room, taking the hallway in. Damian unlocked a door, flipping a key in his hand and swiping it through a lock on one of the doors. The light on the lock turned green at the key, the door buzzing as it unlocked. The hallway had a close outshot that turned to the left, with a sign for the elevators. As Colin skipped towards the door, a man in a ill-fitting suit turned the corner and froze at the sight. Tim glanced between the man’s terrified expression and the shit eating grin slowly growing on Colin’s face.  
“Good evening, Gerald.” Colin greeted warmly. Damian’s head turned away from the man, and Tim could see how desperately he was trying not to laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly as his body quivered.

“How do you know my-“ the man started, his hands shaking.

“How was your meeting?” Colin asked conversationally. “I heard you had to do a presentation with your superiors. I hope it went well!” the man paled considerably, stammering out a response before rushing down the hallway, nearly dropping his briefcase. After he rounded the corner, Colin let his head tip back and his laughter spill forth, ricocheting around the walls and through the hallway. Damian turned the handle on the door, opening it slightly.

“Colin, please.” Damian turned to the redhead as Colin tried to stifle his giggles. Damian also had an incredibly pleased smile on his face, with an amused lilt to his words. “Don’t freak out the peasants, it is not kind.” Damian stepped into the room, Colin hot on his heels. Tim followed soon after, raising an eyebrow at Colin’s jovial expression.  
“Do I want to know?” Tim asked, following Colin into another hallway. Colin just grinned in response, heading into a larger room that served as the living room. Tim watched as Damian headed straight for the couch, collapsing onto it. There were three other people in either pajamas or sweats lounging around the room. Leaning up against the opposite wall and clad in pick pajamas with white snowflake patterning was the tallest person currently in the room, Colin’s Abuse form excluded. He easily dwarfed everyone else at over 6 feet. He had raven black hair with a white streak through the bangs and strangely vivid blue-green eyes.

Tim watched as Damian strode over to the man, steps portraying a sense of royalty. Tim briefly entertained the thought that Damian would have the man kneel before him, until the man twitched out a scarred hand, grabbing the back of a chair and swinging it towards him. Damian all but collapsed into the chair, and Tim watched as his once iron-clad composure break. Damian’s face collapsed in, and Tim was solidly reminded that Damian was barely an adult, who had just met his father for the first time and now had to continue to reform a genocidal worldwide organization. There was movement across the room, and a lithe, willowy girl with short black hair grabbed a pillow from the couch she was lounging on and threw it at Damian. The tall man, who had positioned himself behind the chair Damian occupied, caught it, and gently lowered it so Damian could grab it.  
As soon as Damian’s fingers closed around the pillow, he brought it straight into his face and started screaming. Colin taped Tim on the shoulder. Tim turned to look at the slightly shorter boy, who jerked his chin towards the others occupying the room.

“Jason.” Colin pointed towards the man standing behind Damian, a fond smile on his face as Damian continued to let loose his frustrations. Tim found himself mildly impressed that he could keep that level of volume up for this length of time. “Maya.” Colin pointed towards the girl who was watching them carefully. Tim couldn’t directly see any sort of weapon on her, but her smile promised that she could be twirling a blade in her fingers faster than Tim could move. Her threat was subtle, but Tim could see it clearly enough. “And Mara.” Colin pointed towards a girl who was sitting on a bar stool pushed up against the kitchen island. She wasn’t trying to be subtle at all, a polishing rag held in her left hand as she gently polished the broadsword in her arms. If Tim had to guess, he’d say the sword was as large as she was – but the rippling muscles he could see along her arms boasted that she could lift it with ease She kept her eyes on Tim, polishing the edge other blade. “He’s Tim.” Colin announced a little louder. Jason, who had been watching Damian, glanced up, and his eyes met Tim’s. “Tim Drake.” Colin continued, oblivious to the tension. Tim watched Jason’s gaze harden. “He’s coming with us to help negotiation with the League.”

Jason’s hands rose and Tim realized how big he really had to be. He dwarfed Tim and was roughly a Damian and a half. Tim thought it fitting that Jason’s metaphorical shoes were still too big for Tim to fill when the man’s actual shoe size would have been far too large for Tim. Jason placed his hands onto Damian’s shoulders – who had finally stopped screaming, _holy shit was that impressive_ \- and dug his fingers into one of Damian’s muscles. Tim blinked as Jason started massaging Damian’s shoulders. The boy melted into Jason’s hands.

Tim watched in fascination as Damian relaxed, every other person raising their guard in response.

“Also, Gerald says hello.” Colin cackled. He joined Maya on the couch, rolling over on his stomach and propping his legs up on the arm. The tension broke as everyone laughed in response. The merry twinkle in Maya’s eyes had her off the couch and striding towards Tim. She gently gripped his forearm and steered him towards the kitchen.  
“C’mon batboy, let’s go get Dami a milkshake before he starts crying.” She had a playful smile on her face as they entered the kitchen.

She opened the fridge, pulling out a carton of whole milk, then stopped to grab some ice cream from the freezer. She glanced back at Tim as she sat the stuff on the counter. “Want anything?”

“A coffee would be nice.” Tim admitted.

“If you could fill up the kettle so Jason and Mara can have tea, that’d be great.” She said. Tim nodded, heading for the Keurig underneath a cabinet. He checked the water levels before grabbing a mug and placing it under the spout. Tim turned the machine on, before grabbing the kettle that was placed beside it. He went to the sink, filling it up with water. He placed it back on its stand, flicking the power button and letting the water boil. Tim stepped back over tot eh coffeemaker, humming as he examined his coffee options. Dark roasted coffee French vanilla, or caramel swirl… hm.

“The French vanilla’s good” Maya said conversationally. Tim nodded and took her advice, selecting a French vanilla. He waited for the water to boil, watching as Maya picked out a forest green mug with a battle axe, along with a baby blue one patterned in cartoon penguins. At Tim’s questioning look, Maya grinned.

“Jason has a thing for penguins.” Tim nodded, letting out a soft noise in response. Maya threw an earl grey tea bag into the battle axe mug, and a chai into the penguin mug. Tim watched poured the water in, watching them steep while loading his coffee, nearly puncturing his finger as he did so. The machine groaned before pouring into his mug, the smell of coffee with an afterthought of vanilla dispersing throughout the room. Jason.

He was finally meeting Jason Todd. Tim tried to reconcile the image of a laughing, bouncy child who swore worse than the goods; a boy who had inspired waves of peace throughout the city. Tim had stood beside Two-Face and his minions at the memorial for the second Robin – he remembered how no one seemed to be able to bring Gotham’s criminals and Gotham’s citizens together but the second Robin. But that was a boy, naïve and new the world. The person currently massaging Damian’s shoulders was a man with something to protect. Tim wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel.

The clink of a spoon against ceramic brought Tim out of his musings. He watched Maya stir brown sugar into the chai, a set of little measuring spoons beside her on the counter. She walked back over to the fridge to retrieve a small piece of cut lemon, pressing the blend button on the blender first before heading back to Jason’s tea, squeezing the lemon in. She grabbed the milk and sugar, pouring it into the earl grey before offering it to Tim. He shook his head, removing the little cup from the machine, heavier now with wet coffee grounds, and threw it in the garbage. When he tuned around, Maya was putting the ingredients away and had picked up the two tea mugs. Silently, Tim poured Damian’s milkshake into a tall glass beside the blender, grabbing both his coffee and Damian’s milkshake.

“Thanks.” Maya murmured. Tim nodded in response, and they stepped out of the kitchen ad back towards the living room. Tim headed to Damian first, blinking softly at the scene before him. Jason had pulled out a chair so he could sit behind Damian and brush through Damian’s long hair. Damian had turned nearly sideways, with his legs curled up behind the chair’s arms.

“I hear you need a milkshake?” Tim asked quietly, hesitant to break the silence. Damian glanced over from bis position, reaching out for the cup. Tim handed it to him, before settling down on the arm of the couch beside them. He watched as Colin rolled off the couch, Maya delivering her drinks. Tim sipped elegantly at his tea, glancing around the room, the silence broken only by Jason brushing through Damian’s hair.

“We leave tomorrow,” Damian was the first to speak, acidic green eyes finding Tim’s. “I really hope you like the heat.”


	6. Green Eyes, Blue Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian brings Tim to his headquarters. They discuss terms.

Home. Not the in-between of crime-ridden, infested alleys. Like bugs and plagues; criminals crawled among Gotham’s streets like a cockroach infestation in a low-grade kitchen. That was not Damian’s home.

They had flown over the dense forests and past several beautiful waterfalls and had entered the second largest desert in the country. Rocky, mountainous – and a wealth of jewels and precious metals hidden just below the ground. The palace was cast of sanded stone and carved with the hands of masters. When Damian returned, his forces gathered to greet them. A small child – born of one of the families that had chosen to stay – had run forward and grabbed onto Damian’s leg.

He had knelt down and swept the girl into his arms, spying one of her fathers as she locked her arms around his neck. He balanced her on his hop, the soft fuzz atop her head tickling at his shoulders. Damian carried on into the palace. He couldn’t stop for long – he had made sure that Colin had applied as much sunscreen as possible onto any bared skin on Timothy. The Robin was pale – made sense, considering Gotham was nearly always cloudy and wet – and used to a wetter climate. They would have to take steps to ensure Timothy’s skin did not crack.

Damian stepped inside, the others following behind. Damian stopped, the child warm against his side as he glanced around the throne room. Scattered were piles of dust, debris, and large stone blocks, cracks echoing where they had originally fallen on the floors. The support pillars were crumbling, erecting new ones as construction took place.

Damian watched straight ahead. The throne. Large, built for someone taller than Damian was. Broader shoulders than he would ever have. Cast of gold – shining. A beautiful centerpiece to an elegant throne. A palace to receive visitors and feel superior. They had scrubbed clean the bloodstain from the seat and back of the chair, but Damian knew he could never erase the smell of blood from his memory. He could feel it again.

“When you stab someone,” Damian started, feeling the child shift as her attention focused on him. “The blood splatters. That is why you must be careful when taking the blade out.” Damian watched Timothy walk up to his left side, the child’s other father coming at his right. The man bowed before accepting his daughter, Damian tasting Ra’s’ blood from where it had trailed to his mouth years ago. It had not tasted any different to his own. It had made him sick.

“This is… in rough shape.” Timothy commented, Damian turning back to face the front.

“I was more concerned with the repair of living quarters and training areas.” Damian admitted, noting how Tim watched him carefully. “This room is unimportant.” Damian looked up, Timothy following his eyes, up to the green and gold stained glass of the al Ghul crest. Damian felt his eyebrows pull together, the crest along his sleeves burning into his skin. “It is becoming a garden.” Damian glanced to the side at the woman in charge of the construction. “I would like that window removed for natural light to be allowed in for the plants.” Damian asked. The woman nodded, jotting the note down in her notebook. Damian ignored Timothy’s surprised looked and continued through the room.

“There are three separate areas of the compound,” Damian explained, stepping forward. “To the North – training grounds and family living units a little outside of the compound itself. This is the largest section and dedicated to those who work for me.” Damian noted that Timothy followed just a step behind. He was pleased – Timothy had listened when being told how to interact with him in front of Damian’s charges. “Towards the East is the council’s office. Every three months the heads of the other League branches meet with me. That area houses them and the meetings.” Damian couldn’t supress a shudder, remembering the last meeting – he had been propositioned for marriage no less than three times. “Towards the West,” Damian turned, opening the double doors.

Stationed at each door was a guard, who turned and bowed at Damian’s presence. Damian nodded to them both, Maya softly asking them to close the doors behind Damian’s entourage. “These are my quarters.” The floor was in the shape of a square, the perimeter with walls and fences areas leading to the rooms. The middle was open – bone to the sky. Lush gardens decorated the area, a small river running through it. Damian began walking along the shaded areas, pointing out the different rooms to Timothy. The weaponry, training area, the individual bedrooms of each of his family, and Damian’s animal enclosure.

“Your quarters.” Damian announced, gesturing towards one of the doors. “Your belongings will be delivered here. In a few hours, you will go through them. If you require any additional items, let myself or Colin know.” Damian pivoted, nodding to his family. “Mara, Maya; dismissed. Mara, please contact Mother – I’d like to know how everything is working on the outskirts of our territory. Maya, if I could have a progress update on construction and any recent incidents, that would be most helpful. Jason, Timothy – if you would come with me, we can discuss this… relationship with the Justice League.” Damian let Colin go ahead, the redhead opening the door to Damian’s bedroom. It was easily the largest room in this section of the compound – a sitting area away from an archway that contained Colin and Damian’s quarters. Colin closed the door behind them, leaning against the wall next to the only exit.

His posture was non-threatening, but carefully guarded. Colin’s eyes scanned the room for any hidden threats. Damian sat down, sighing heavily. He could feel the tension wash out of him as he allowed himself to slouch.

“Tea?” Jason asked. He grabbed the pin out of Damian’s hair, letting it fall down his back. Damian nodded, and Colin slipped out of the room to grab the drink. “Bring me a milkshake!” Jason hollered. “Coffee?” he asked, turning to Timothy. Timothy nodded, Jason then yelling for coffee. Damian let himself feel that warmth. Home. This was his home, and these were his family. He closed his eyes, letting Jason run his fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp.

“Formalities are dropped in this room.” Damian could still feel Timothy’s eyes on him. “…what do you expect the Justice League will want out of my League?"

“They’ll not to have a repeat of Ra’s.” Timothy hummed. “They’ll want cooperation towards their efforts. They’ll want resources, assistance in dealing with global problems…. Depending on the level of crisis, they’ll ask for varying levels of assistance.” Timothy hesitated, Damian opening his eyes to watch the older. Colin walked back in with a tray, Jason greedily reaching for his milkshake.

“Batman is going to want to be in contact.” Timothy finished.

“Contact?” Damian raised an eyebrow.

“You’re his son. He’s going to try to get to know you. He’ll want to-“

“Control.” Damian finished. He accepted the tea from Jason, Colin returning to his post. “They always want control.” Damian shook his head, gripping at the arm of his chair while sipping his tea. “From you, I will expect this. I would like you to stay for a minimum of three months. If you cannot, that’s fine. I will outline many of the current problems my League faces and ask that you open lanes of communication between myself and the Justice League. If not yourself, I would like you to establish an ambassador between our two organizations. This person will attend the quarterly meetings at this compound. I would also like to send a member of my own to the Justice League. I would like my League to become involved in the Justice League’s mission and publicly aid in said problems. Let it be known that I am using the Justice League to rebuild our reputation.” Damian narrowed his eyes. “And that is all. You may go. Contact your League, discuss my terms and their’s.” Damian waved his hand dismissively, Colin opening the door. Timothy rose, exiting the room.

Colin closed the door behind him.

“Dami.” Damian raised his head, locking eyes with Colin. “Your eyes used to be blue.” Damian sighed, feeling his hair pulse with acid green energy. Could feel it burning in his veins, radiating energy from his eyes. He looked away, focusing on the gun strapped to Jason’s belt, the man’s hand on the weapon.

“I know, Colin.” Damian sank into the chair, relishing in his skin on silk, for as long as he still could. “But there’s nothing I can do.” Colin hummed in response.

“The Justice League could help. Batman… could help.”

Damian made to protest, but the look in Colin’s eyes stopped him. He sighed again, shaking his head.

“I will try.” Damian rose to grip at the bridge of his nose, feeling Jason’s arms lock around his shoulders, Colin’s nutmeg and cinnamon light perfume tickling his nose. He’d try. For them.


End file.
